


A Terrible Thing to Waste

by EnthusiasticFish



Category: NCIS
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29189169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnthusiasticFish/pseuds/EnthusiasticFish
Summary: On their way back from a conference, Ducky and Jimmy get stranded when their car breaks down. As if that wasn't bad enough, it's raining...and they get pulled into a dangerous situation.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**A Terrible Thing to Waste  
** by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1**

The windshield wipers swept back and forth, back and forth. It could have been a hypnotic, sleep-inducing rhythm, but the two occupants of the car were not paying attention to something so prosaic as windshield wipers.

"...so, in the future, Mr. Palmer, I would recommend that you _not_ make comments about bodies being a smorgasbord when presenting at a professional conference," Ducky said.

"Was it that bad, Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy asked. "Some people laughed."

"Yes, but the people you need to impress were not amused. Now, I'm not saying all should depend on a few old fogies, but these are the people who will have a say in what you end up doing in the future."

"But I like what I'm doing now," Jimmy said. "I don't care about going somewhere else."

Ducky smiled. "So would many say with equal sincerity, but you never know what might happen that will make you desire to move on. At the beginning of one's career, one wants _more_ options, not _fewer_."

"I guess," Jimmy said quietly.

Ducky took his eyes off the road for a moment and looked over at his companion. Jimmy seemed strangely upset by Ducky's advice.

"What's wrong, lad?"

"Nothing, Dr. Mallard."

"Come now, that's obviously far from being the case. What's wrong?"

"Is this your way of trying to nudge me out of NCIS?" Jimmy asked, suddenly. "I wondered why you were urging me to go to this conference, why you came with me. Is it because you're tired of working with me? I mean, I know that I have a weird sense of humor and that Agent Gibbs doesn't seem to like me very much, but I thought that my _work_ was okay."

"It is, lad," Ducky said. "I have no issue with your work ethic, nor with your sense of humor, bad timing notwithstanding. ...and since you work for me and not for Agent Gibbs, you have nothing to worry about on that score."

"Then, why?"

"Have you been thinking that I didn't want you in Autopsy?"

"Well, my supervisor never pushed me to go to conferences or anything like that."

"Exactly."

"What?"

"He _should_ have been, Mr. Palmer. No matter where you end up, and your final stop could very well be NCIS, but you know that Abigail takes the time to attend conferences and publish on occasion. Even in our field, being known and seen is important."

"But you're already well-known, Dr. Mallard. I saw all those people talking to you the whole time!"

"Of course, but I'm at the _end_ of my career, not the beginning of it. I don't need new connections."

"But I do?"

"Precisely. Which is why I recommended that you attend and present at this conference, and it _should_ have been your supervisor who accompanied you. He has been rather lackluster in promoting your academic development. In addition, I have been interested in attending this conference as well."

"Why? If you don't need to...I didn't think most of it was very fun. In fact..." Jimmy hesitated. "...a lot of it was pretty boring."

Ducky chuckled. "Well, yes, there is that."

"Then, why?"

"Because, Mr. Palmer, the mind is a terrible thing to waste, as the saying goes. Leonardo da Vinci said once that 'just as iron rusts from disuse, even so does inaction spoil the intellect.' I have no intention of allowing my intellect to be thus spoiled. Ergo, I will continue to work and to educate myself as long as I possibly can. That is why I continue to maintain my medical skills although my customers are generally beyond benefitting from them."

Jimmy just nodded and looked out the windshield at the rain.

"This is a big storm, Dr. Mallard."

"Yes, it's unfortunate that we couldn't have avoided it."

"I know I shouldn't have gone out with that group after the last presentation. They were so interesting...a lot more than some of the others."

"Mr. Palmer, I wasn't criticizing. What you did was the main purpose of these things. Networking. ...and if you network with people whose company you enjoy, all the better."

The conversation lagged. Quite an achievement for two men who were both rather talkative. ...but it gave them a chance to take in their surroundings.

"Mr. Palmer...I do believe that we are not where we should be."

Jimmy squinted through the windshield and then at the trees lining each side of the road.

"I think you're right, Doctor. How long have we been on this road?"

"I couldn't tell you, Mr. Palmer. You have the map this time."

In spite of the slight concern, Jimmy grinned. "I thought it was always the driver's fault."

"Watch yourself, Mr. Palmer. That could be considered insubordination."

"Only by the old fogies," Jimmy retorted.

"Well, I suppose that we are probably going the right direction, are we not?"

"I don't even know with all of these trees and the rain...and the fact that it's dark."

"The trees will have to break eventually and in this part of the country, it's highly unlikely that a paved road, no matter how winding, will not lead us to civilization sooner or later."

"I think I have to admit that I got us lost this time, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky chuckled. "Yes, I think it is time for you to finally admit it."

Jimmy laughed, too...but then, the car made a noise that it wasn't supposed to make.

"Oh, dear."

The dashboard lights went out, the soft music coming from the radio...and most importantly, the engine.

"Uh oh," Jimmy said.

Ducky steered the car to the edge of the road, off the shoulder a bit...and there was a click. Clicks were bad when it came to cars.

"Well, Mr. Palmer, perhaps we should call for a tow."

Jimmy pulled out his cell and grimaced.

"I don't have any service, Dr. Mallard. Do you?"

Ducky dug into his pocket and checked his.

"No, I don't. That's not good. How are you with cars?"

"My limit is changing the oil. I go to a mechanic."

"As do I. Very well." Ducky turned the key again...only a click. "That is a bad sign."

"Yeah, and I don't remember driving past anything. I haven't seen any cars on the road."

"Why don't you take a look at the engine?" Ducky suggested.

"I don't think I'll see anything, but I'll try it," Jimmy said.

He hopped out of the car while Ducky popped the hood. Jimmy stared at the engine for a few seconds and shook his head before running back to the car to get out of the rain.

"I don't know what to do, Doctor. It's well beyond what I know."

"Very well. I suppose it was wishful thinking that the solution would be so simple."

"What do we do?" Jimmy asked. "My phone isn't working. Yours isn't either."

"Well, I wouldn't suggest that we do anything until the rain stops. We may end up having to walk for help. So let us get comfortable here and wait."

Jimmy looked at Ducky and then smiled.

"All right. Want to play twenty questions?"

"I beg your pardon?" Ducky asked.

"Twenty questions. It'll pass the time. Besides, it'll keep your mind from wasting away."

Ducky smiled. "Very well. You may start."

Jimmy closed his eyes for a moment and then smiled. "Go ahead."

"Is it an animal, vegetable or mineral?"

"Huh?"

"My apologies. That is a variant. I believe the question should be... is it bigger than a bread box?"

Jimmy smiled. "Yes."

"Is it a human being?"

"No. That's two."

"Is it associated with your residency?"

"No. That's three."

"Is it..." Ducky stopped. "Good Lord, what is that out there?"

Jimmy looked.

A figure stumbled out of the woods onto the road and fell. Ducky and Jimmy looked at each other for a few seconds and then got out of the car at the same time and hurried over.

"It's a man," Jimmy said...and then realized how silly that sounded.

The man was shaking and mumbling incoherently as they turned him over. His hands were bound in front of him.

...but it wasn't his hands that grabbed their attention first. It was his face.

"Timothy," Ducky gasped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The rain was forgotten for the moment as Ducky and Jimmy leaned over Tim, trying to understand his garbled words. He was clearly delirious.

"Hurry...away...get back..."

"McGee," Jimmy whispered. "What is he doing here?"

"Who knows?" Ducky said. "Timothy, can you hear me?"

Tim might be able to hear, but he certainly wasn't comprehending anything. He tried to get up again and run...but no matter how far he'd run up to now, he'd clearly reached his breaking point.

"Mr. Palmer, let's get him to the car. It's not ideal, but it's at least dry."

"Yes, Doctor."

Tim was weakly trying to move as they lifted him to his feet, but he couldn't even stand on his own. He leaned heavily on Jimmy and Ducky, still mumbling distractedly.

"...said I would...and I can't...must go back..."

"Timothy, just relax, lad. We'll help you."

They got him back to the car and laid him across the backseat. Jimmy grabbed a utility tool he kept in the glove compartment and cut the plastic ties around Tim's wrists. Tim's eyes opened again, wild and unseeing, and he began flailing at Ducky.

"Get away! Get away!" he screamed.

"Timothy, it is all right! It's Ducky!"

The energy vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Tim subsided, his eyes closing, and he stopped moving.

"Dr. Mallard..." Jimmy whispered, almost horrified. "...he's not even wearing any shoes!"

Ducky looked at Tim's feet. They were scratched and bloody.

"We can't just leave him here," Jimmy said. "He needs...more than the back seat!"

"You're right, of course," Ducky said.

"I could see if there's any place nearby. Maybe there's a house."

"Even an empty one would be a boon to us right now." Ducky considered. It was true that Tim was in need of care...and care would be difficult to give in such a situation. The rain still fell, and Tim's condition wasn't likely to improve. "Don't run too far. Remember that whatever you find, we will have to walk or carry Timothy there."

Jimmy nodded. "I'll run both ways. We might have missed somewhere behind us, too."

"Go, lad."

Jimmy took off up the road, the way they'd come. Ducky turned his attention back to Tim. As things were now, it was difficult even to give him basic aid. Water, though. Dehydration could be as much a cause of delirium as anything, although he figured that Tim had more problems.

He reached for the water bottles they'd both bought when they stopped for gas. Carefully, he lifted Tim up and put the bottle to his lips.

"Come, lad. Take a drink."

The water dribbled down Tim's chin for a few seconds and then he coughed as the water made it into his mouth. Ducky got him to drink a little and then set the bottle down and felt Tim's forehead. Definite fever. After a few seconds, Tim's eyes fluttered open. They were relatively clear.

"Timothy, can you hear me?"

One of Tim's hands reached out and weakly tugged at Ducky's sleeve.

"Gotta get back," he whispered.

"Where, Timothy? Where do you need to go?"

Tim shuddered violently and then his eyes closed.

"Dr. Mallard!"

Ducky looked up. Jimmy was running back to him, panting. He was soaked to the skin but looked triumphant.

"I've found a place, Doctor! It's empty, but I could get inside. I'm sure they won't mind...whoever they are."

"A house?"

"A...shed more like...maybe it would qualify as a cabin."

"Where?"

"About...100 yards down the road."

"One hundred yards?" Ducky asked, looking down at Tim.

"It's the only thing I could find," Jimmy said, looking a bit deflated.

"If it is, it is," Ducky said quickly. "Let's get ourselves organized and move out. We will need the first aid kit, my doctor's bag, flashlight...and some extra clothes for you, for Timothy and for myself. I'm sure we will all be very wet by the time we get there. Any foodstuffs and the water we have left."

"You know...I thought it was silly that you were taking your doctor's bag with you."

Ducky smiled. "I didn't anticipate putting it to any actual use on this trip. Some of my friends enjoy comparing our bags. One of our quirks. I'm glad of it now."

"Me, too."

They gathered the necessary items and then carefully pulled Tim out of the car again. He didn't awaken.

"We're going to have to carry him the whole way," Jimmy groaned.

"Yes, it would seem so. Let us load ourselves up and then...how's your skill with the two-man carry?"

"I remember how to do it," Jimmy said. "But can we do that and carry everything? Maybe we should take two trips."

"I think we should vacate the area all at once."

Jimmy nodded solemnly. "You think whoever did this to him will be coming after him?"

"I think it's a distinct possibility and we don't want to risk being caught out in the open, nor with a non-functioning vehicle."

"Okay, McGee," Jimmy said bracingly. "Let's go!"

Together, they lifted Tim up. He groaned but didn't awaken. His head flopped against Jimmy's shoulder.

"You ready, Doctor?"

"Ready, Mr. Palmer. Lead on."

The pouring rain didn't make the trip any easier. Ducky didn't complain, but he was tired about halfway to the shed or whatever it was that Jimmy had found. Tim started mumbling again, mostly unintelligibly. Whatever injury he had clearly was paining him.

"Almost there, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky asked, trying not to sound too winded.

"Yes," Jimmy said. "It's right over here."

Ducky was relieved when Jimmy turned them off the road, into the trees. About fifty feet into the forest, Ducky caught sight of their final destination. It was a rather sad-looking building, but it would hopefully be dry.

Jimmy kicked open the door and they went inside.

It wasn't a shed, per se. There was a wood floor, some windows...but it was one semi-large room and, thankfully, it was dry.

"Very well done, Jimmy. This will do us and should keep us out of sight, hopefully, out of mind."

"Where should we lay him down?"

"On the floor wherever there is enough room to work around him."

Carefully, they lay Tim on the floor. Tim's eyes fluttered open again and he started trying to get up again.

"Get back...back...to..."

"Stay down, McGee," Jimmy said. "Just relax."

"Have to keep going," Tim mumbled, but he was losing the battle with consciousness yet again.

"You've gone far enough, Timothy," Ducky said soothingly. "Sleep."

"Too much...can't..."

"Sleep, Timothy."

It was, again, questionable whether Tim was hearing Ducky or not, but he did sleep. As soon as Tim stopped struggling, Ducky began to carefully remove Tim's clothes.

"Uh...Dr. Mallard...doesn't this feel weird?" Jimmy asked.

Ducky looked up with a smile. "Working on someone you know?"

"Yeah."

"Alas...this is almost the only type of medicine I have practiced in the last...twenty years or more. Believe me, Mr. Palmer, Timothy will appreciate your help and if you don't refer to it, he won't even think about whatever state of undress you find him in. Right now, what is most important that we treat his injuries, whatever they may be, as well as we can. ...and we will have to be investigators. It is unlikely that Timothy will be able to tell us anything worthwhile at this point."

"Like a body?" Jimmy asked...and then winced. "Sorry."

"I understand, Mr. Palmer. Shall we?"

Jimmy nodded and knelt down to help Ducky remove Tim's rather ragged jacket. As they rolled him over, Jimmy saw the first real sign of injury.

"Dr. Mallard...here."

Ducky craned his neck and then moved around by Jimmy to examine.

"Ah, yes. I believe we are honing in on the main cause of Timothy's delirium. Carefully, now. Any pressure near this wound will cause pain, I believe."

Jimmy nodded.

"Wait. I have scissors in the first aid kit."

"Ah, good thought, lad. Go ahead."

Jimmy searched in the kit and pulled out the scissors. He cut away Tim's shirt.

"Oh, man. That's bad, Dr. Mallard."

"It is indeed, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said.

On Tim's lower back was a large jagged wound. The skin around it was inflamed. The wound itself was weeping and almost white.

"This is old...a few days, I'd guess, although depending on his situation, the infection could have been...helped along."

"This is a bad infection, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said. "It needs debridement. Just an antiseptic isn't going to help."

"It won't help _enough_ , Mr. Palmer, but it _will_ help...perhaps sufficiently to help Timothy survive a bit longer than he would otherwise."

"Do you think it's that bad?" Jimmy asked.

"I think it's enough that it could be. We will need to cleanse the wound, bind it as best we can. Now, quickly before we do so. What does this wound tell you?"

"It's not a bullet...or a knife," Jimmy said. "Some kind of puncture wound? ...but not any regular material. That means there could be debris in the wound...and that could make the infection worse."

"Yes. I agree. The weapon is definitely uncertain for the moment, though. All right. Let us do our duty here." Ducky kept his voice calm, even didactic, but in reality, he was very worried about what he was seeing. Tim's injury was severe, and he may be in genuine danger of death or serious debility. He hoped that Jimmy couldn't see his worry, but for all Jimmy's usual awkwardness, he was generally pretty observant...disconcertingly so at times.

Ducky opened the first aid kit, found the typical iodine.

"This will have to do. Mr. Palmer, if you would hold Timothy still. I don't know whether he will feel this and awaken or not."

Jimmy nodded silently and did as Ducky asked. Tim stiffened for a moment when Ducky first started cleaning the infected wound, but he stopped after only a few seconds. Probably unconscious again.

"I see another injury, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said softly.

"What is it?" Ducky asked as he continued to clean the wound.

"Looks like Tim got a good smack on the head."

"That would be a contributing factor to his delirium, no doubt," Ducky said with a nod. He bound up the wound as best he could, although he knew it couldn't be enough. "You may let him go, Mr. Palmer."

Jimmy lay Tim back on the floor with exaggerated care. Then, he gently turned Tim's head so that the injury could be seen in the glow of the flashlight.

"Also an old injury," Ducky said.

"Yeah. Looks a lot like the other one...only not a puncture wound this time. Someone hit him."

Ducky nodded. Again, he cleaned and bandaged the wound. Tim didn't move. Then, they continued to remove Tim's soaked clothing. Other than deep abrasions on his wrists and his cut-up feet, they found no other injuries. They did their best and then put some of Jimmy's clothes on Tim.

"They don't really fit, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky chuckled. "They're dry and they will help keep him warm. Fashion doesn't particularly matter at this point."

"Yeah, I know. Can I change now? My pants are chafing."

"Yes, Mr. Palmer. Go ahead. I think we can trust each other not to look."

Jimmy blushed, but Ducky just grabbed his own change of clothing and turned around. Jimmy turned as well. They both changed quickly and then returned to Tim's unmoving form.

"We should probably eat something, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said. "All we have is what's leftover from stopping for gas, but it'll be enough until tomorrow...and Tim isn't likely going to be awake to eat anyway."

"Good idea, Mr. Palmer. I think we should save something, just in case, and Timothy will be needing water whenever we can get him to drink."

"Maybe we could use some rainwater. There are chlorine dioxide tablets in the kit."

"Perhaps...if we have a large basin of some kind to catch the water."

"I'll look around."

"Don't get yourself soaked anew in your search," Ducky called.

Jimmy just waved back and opened the back door and walked out into the rain, although he did grab a poncho and pulled it on as he closed the door behind him.

"You'll catch your death," Ducky murmured, but he smiled tolerantly. "Ah, he's a good lad, Timothy. Well-meaning, if a bit thoughtless at times. Still, I count myself fortunate that Mr. Palmer is my assistant, and when that time comes, if he's interested, I will be confident in handing the reins to him." He sighed a little. "Now, what brought you to this state? Serious injury, alone, in the middle of nowhere. We shall have to be investigators, indeed, teasing out what details we may until such time as you are able to tell us. Hopefully, once this storm is over, we'll be able to make contact and get out of here and tell the authorities. I don't mind telling you, Timothy, that the idea of having to repel any attackers worries me. Neither Jimmy nor myself are fighters by any means."

The thought of having to fight off someone who had managed to bring Tim into this condition...it was not a happy one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Jimmy came in, excited about having found, not only a large basin, but also a working well. They couldn't guarantee the quality of the water, but with the chlorine dioxide tablets, they could still treat the water and be assured of having a supply...for as long as they needed it, hopefully not long. Then, they sat down beside Tim, neither seemed inclined to sleep. Ducky decided that it would be useful to take the time to discuss what they might know.

"All right, Mr. Palmer. Let us practice the art of assumptions."

"Assumptions?"

"Yes. Using what we have gleaned about Timothy's state, let us see if we can discern how he came to be here. Any thoughts?"

"Well...he got the puncture wound and his head wound at about the same time."

"And not with the same method. Probably, the head wound came _after_ the puncture wound."

"Why would you say that?" Jimmy asked.

"Because of how irregular the puncture wound is. I am thinking that it might have been from..."

"A tree!" Jimmy said loudly...and then flushed. "Sorry."

"No apologies necessary."

"A sign of weakness?"

Ducky chuckled. "No. It might be for Jethro, but it's a sign of strength to me. Why would you say a tree?"

"Tree branches...they break off low to the ground because of animals and stuff. A fight or something." Jimmy was quiet for a moment. "So...where's the rest of the team?"

"Pardon?"

"Why would Tim be by himself out in a place like this?"

Ducky nodded in realization. "He's said that he needed to go back...back for his friends."

"Alive or dead?" Jimmy asked seriously.

"We will assume alive until we have evidence otherwise...simply because dead means that we do nothing."

"Okay," Jimmy said softly, looking down at Tim who was motionless on the floor, obviously thinking about how badly Tim was injured.

"If he _was_ with the team when he was injured, I think we can also make assumptions about why Timothy got away."

"We can?"

"Yes. Imagine the situation. They were taken by surprise..."

x.x.x.x

" _Look out, McGee!"_

_Tim was flung back against the tree and shouted out in sudden pain. He fell to the ground._

" _About time. Take a nap!"_

_A heavy thump dropped Tim to the ground...motionless on the ground._

" _Get him. Let's go."_

" _You want to tie him up?"_

" _He's out. Don't bother."_

" _He might die before we get there."_

" _Fine by me."_

x.x.x.x

"Tim is injured and weak. No reason to restrain him as well," Jimmy said.

"Exactly. Depending on how long they were kept captive...and it must have been a day or two at the least with the infection in Timothy's wound. He may have found the strength to make a run for it...but lost his way, if he even knew it at all."

"So why didn't they stop him?"

"Perhaps he got out during the night and they have not yet discovered that he is missing."

"That would mean they're not far away," Jimmy said with justified worry.

"Yes, it would...but the rain, although it has not helped us, may have concealed Timothy's escape and his path of travel."

Jimmy looked out the window. "If they took them all at once...that would mean at least four."

"Yes, it would."

"We'd be outnumbered if they came here."

"Indeed."

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Mr. Palmer?"

"I hope they don't come here."

"As do I."

"So...hot...hot...water...need some water..."

Tim's sudden movement, accompanied by his whimpers, took them both by surprise. He flung off the blanket and was squirming in pain.

"Water, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said and quickly took hold of Tim, calming his movements, lifting him up off the floor.

Jimmy grabbed the water bottle and held it to Tim's lips. Tim choked and sputtered but did drink. Then, his head fell back against Ducky and his eyes fluttered open, looking not so wild...but not completely sane, either.

"Timothy?"

"McGee?" Jimmy said. "How are you feeling?"

"Hot...so hot...gotta get out...out...air. Need to breathe."

"Timothy, were you with your teammates?"

"Hot..." Tim lay there, limp and panting...but then, he suddenly shifted. His breathing sped up and pulled free of Ducky's grasp, crawling for the door before Jimmy pulled himself together and stopped him.

"No, Tim. You need to stay here."

"So...hot...they're...not...can't..."

Tim wasn't strong enough to continue, but he tried. Jimmy pulled him back to the middle of the room. Tim started to cry as he struggled to get to the door.

"Go...come back...stop...can't...hot...hot..."

Ducky took one of the pieces they'd cut of Tim's clothes and soaked it in water. Then, while Jimmy held him, he mopped at Tim's face and neck.

"Stay here, Timothy. You need to rest."

Tim shivered a little as the cold water dripped from his neck down to his chest...but he did stop fighting and soon he was asleep again. Jimmy lay him back on the floor. They stared at him in silence for a few minutes.

"If he just got away tonight...it must have been hard for the others to watch him." Jimmy said softly. "Getting worse and worse and not being able to do anything to help him."

x.x.x.x

" _McGee, how are you feeling?" Tony asked._

 _Tim shifted painfully. "I wish that they_ had _killed me. It's so hot in here, isn't it."_

" _You must have a fever. I wish we could do something."_

" _You can't," Tim said, wincing. "You can't. I'm so hot."_

" _Try to stay still, McGee," Gibbs said. "You're going to make yourself start bleeding again."_

" _Hurts, Boss...and I'm so hot."_

x.x.x.x

Ducky squeezed Jimmy's shoulder comfortingly.

"It's always hard to see someone you care about suffer, lad."

Jimmy nodded.

"I hate having to sit here. I know what we need to do, Dr. Mallard...but we can't do it!"

"No, we can't. We just will have to strive to do what we can."

"How can you just accept it, Doctor?" Jimmy asked. "Death doesn't bother me. Not at all. Everyone dies eventually. ...but... _watching_ how someone dies. That's different."

"It is. I have had years to adjust to it. That doesn't mean it's not hard for me. What it means is that I've learned to deal with it."

"That's why I don't want to be a doctor...for...living people," Jimmy confessed. "I could, but I don't want to. I'd rather not risk it."

"You always take a risk, even if your patient is already dead," Ducky said.

Tim began to stir again. His eyes remained closed, but he was mumbling unintelligibly. Ducky wet the rag again and mopped Tim's face and neck. Tim was panting, not just because of his fever. His face kept screwing up in pain. Finally, his eyes opened again. He stared up at the ceiling and then his face scrunched up, this time in confusion.

"Where am I?" he whispered. "What's going on?"

Ducky gently wiped Tim's face again. Jimmy took the water bottle once more and helped Tim take a drink. His eyes shifted from the ceiling to Jimmy. They were bright with fever, but the delirium was broken for the moment.

"Jimmy...what..." Then, he breathed faster as the pain made itself known again.

"Do you remember how you got here, Tim?" Jimmy asked.

"Where...is here? What happened?"

Jimmy looked at Ducky. So much for getting information from Tim in this state. Even semi-coherent...Tim didn't seem to remember anything.

"We're not sure, Timothy," Ducky said. "You appeared out of nowhere, it seems."

"But...where?"

"Well, actually, Dr. Mallard and I got lost," Jimmy said. "We're not completely sure where we are."

"You...gone...that...conference," Tim said. He was losing his battle with consciousness and coherency.

"Yes, we were on our way back when our car broke down," Ducky said.

"But...back? But...that's...days..."

"What's the last day you remember, Timothy?" Ducky asked. "How long had we been gone?"

Tim shifted around again, trying to find a comfortable position, and failing at that.

"Timothy, the day."

"Day...after, I think. Don't know."

"Oh, dear. That would be five days...if your lost memories begin when you were first injured. No wonder the infection is so severe."

"Infection?"

"Yes. Timothy, you were injured somehow, quite seriously."

"Tim, do you remember _anything_?" Jimmy asked. "Like...where Agent Gibbs is?"

Tim looked at Jimmy for a long moment.

"Was he with me?" he asked finally.

"We don't know, Tim. Our phones don't work and we're stuck out here."

"Lost my phone...no...not lost." Then, Tim's tenuous grasp on his sanity slipped. His eyes closed and he started twisting around again. "So hot...hot..."

"It's all right, lad. Just sleep. Rest. We'll do our best."

"I'm so...hot."

"I know. Just try to stay still. Try to rest."

Eventually, after some soothing words, a little bit more water (both in his mouth and on his face), and a lot of shifting, Tim did sleep again.

"How long do you think he'll sleep this time?" Jimmy asked. "It doesn't seem like he's able to sleep for very long."

"I don't know," Ducky said. "It's hard to gauge this kind of thing."

"Yeah. I'll go get some more water...I guess." Jimmy stood and headed for the door, basin in hand.

Ducky got up as well.

"Jimmy," he said.

Jimmy stopped and turned back, clearly surprised at being addressed by his first name. It was a rare occasion that Ducky was so informal.

"Yeah?"

"Caring for the welfare of your patient isn't a weakness in medicine, no matter what you might be told. It's good to care, to be aware of the patient's suffering, but you do have to learn to set that aside when you might have to inflict pain in order to begin healing. That is true for us as well. No, our patients can't feel pain any longer, but what we do still has the power to give pain to others, depending on what we find. Being aware of the pain is important...but it's also necessary to remember that we are tasked with discovering the truth."

"I don't think about that."

"Perhaps not consciously, but you're aware of it."

"How do you know?"

"Because _I_ have taught it to you, and you are a very good learner."

Jimmy looked a bit surprised again, but then he smiled. "Thanks."

He went out and refilled the water and then returned and added another chlorine dioxide tablet to it.

"We should try to get some sleep ourselves, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said, settling down on the floor beside Tim.

"Both of us?"

"If you're worried about invaders, we can set up a watch. It might be beneficial to have one person awake in case Timothy again attempts to 'go back' as he's declared he must."

"I'll take the first watch, Dr. Mallard. You can sleep."

Ducky smiled. "Age before beauty, then. I see."

In spite of his worries about Timothy's health, about their possibly-dangerous situation, Ducky _was_ tired and he found it easy to slip off into dreamland, knowing that Jimmy would be keeping his eyes open.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

After Ducky fell asleep, Jimmy sat staring at Tim for a few minutes. It was so strange to see him like this. It just didn't seem possible for Tim to be in such dire straits. It was like everything in the universe had been skewed to fit this strange set of circumstances...because Tim never got hurt. It wasn't that he was superhuman or anything. It was just that...he _didn't_ get hurt. Now, he was. Not only hurt but possibly in danger of dying if he didn't get help. It was really disconcerting...as if...the fact that _Tim_ could get hurt meant that _anyone_ could get hurt.

Maybe Tim heard his thoughts because started mumbling again. Jimmy hurried over and sat by Tim, hoping to keep him quiet so that he didn't wake up Ducky. He got the rag wet and gently ran it over Tim's face. The fever wasn't dangerously high. Yet. ...but it was enough to give Tim extra discomfort.

"Are you thirsty, Tim?" Jimmy whispered.

Tim gave no coherent response to the question, but if Ducky was right (and he usually was), Tim was probably dehydrated and could use some extra water. They hadn't been able to get him to drink a lot during his previous awakenings. Carefully, Jimmy lifted Tim up and put the water bottle to his lips. If he thought about it too much, this felt _really_ awkward. Tim was as weak and limp as a baby...and almost as helpless. He drank what was given to him and his eyes fluttered open once more. There was no recognition in them when they rested on Jimmy. _That_ was also disconcerting. Very much so. His lips moved, but there was no sound.

"It's okay, Tim," Jimmy said. "You're safe here. ...at least I _hope_ you're safe here. I hope _I'm_ safe...I hope we're _all_ safe. You know what? I just want safety for everyone. That's okay, isn't it?"

He looked at the windows. Anyone could see in here if they were so inclined. He reached over and turned off the flashlight, plunging the entire room into darkness. Tim was still leaning against him. It was so dark that Jimmy couldn't tell if Tim was still staring at him.

"What if they come after you?" he asked, not expecting an answer. "I don't know what I could do to stop them...and they'd be after us, too, since we're helping."

"Follow...me...yeah...flying...so...flying to..."

"Shh," Jimmy said. "Don't want to wake up Dr. Mallard."

For a wonder, Tim fell silent, but he was so limp that Jimmy had to check to make sure he was still alive. His heartbeat was fast, slightly irregular. Out of habit, Jimmy started counting. He couldn't judge the minutes exactly without being able to see his watch, but he was suddenly really worried about whoever had done this to Tim finding them and he didn't want to risk it. So he just relied on his general sense of how long a minute was and started counting Tim's heart rate.

"Over 80 beats per minute," Jimmy whispered. "What about your respiration?"

That was irregular, but he started counting again.

"Maybe 23 breaths per minute?"

No response from Tim...or Ducky.

"With the fever too..." Jimmy said softly. "Tim, you're getting sepsis...if you don't have it already. That's bad. I wish the rain would stop."

Tim stiffened again and mumbled.

"Can't...stop...bad timing...mad...only way..."

Jimmy furrowed his brow. It seemed like Tim knew a lot more about what had happened when his mind was all screwed up than it did when he was semi-coherent. It was just that he wasn't coherent; so he couldn't tell them what was going on. A no-win situation.

"Tim, what were you guys investigating?" Jimmy murmured. "A case? There was a case, right?"

A lot of mumbling, and Jimmy was disappointed. It seemed like there was nothing he was going to get. So much for his great idea...

"Guns...Navy..."

"Did someone steal weapons from the Navy, Tim?" Jimmy asked eagerly.

"Castle with...towers..."

"Huh?"

So much for that.

"Turrets...boom! Boom!"

"Okay...uh...that's great, Tim." Jimmy knew that delusions could take lots of different forms and were rarely consistent...but regardless of what Ducky had said, it was _weird_ having someone he knew like this, especially someone like Tim who seemed so... _restrained_ most of the time. Jimmy hadn't really seen Tim let loose and be goofy very much. Overly enthusiastic? Yes. Angry? Once or twice. Weird and delusional? Not ever.

"Falling...twisting in the air...boom...boom."

A thought struck him. "Is that when you were getting away, Tim? Were they shooting at you?"

"Keep...on the...making through..."

Jimmy sighed and felt around for the wet rag and then tried to see through the windows as he again tried to help Tim feel better. After a few more minutes, the mumbling stopped and Tim was both quiet _and_ limp. Jimmy lowered him back to the floor and got up. Carefully, he crept over to the windows and peeked out into the night. The rain was still pouring down, and there was no sign of any movement out in the woods.

Still...what if they were coming? What if they _did_ come? Jimmy had no idea what to do. It wasn't as though they could run to the car and drive away. It would have been bad enough if it had just been Tim injured like he was...but possible danger from pursuers? What was he supposed to do about _that_? Ducky hadn't even had any solutions for that kind of situation except to hope that it didn't happen. ...and hope wasn't going to stop bullets.

"That should be an adage," Jimmy said softly. "Maybe it will be some day. I should get the credit for it. Hope doesn't stop bullets."

For the next hour, Jimmy paced back and forth between the front and back windows, pausing in his trek to check on Tim. He'd been in the darkness long enough that he could see the shapes of Ducky and Tim on the floor. He didn't see anything outside. He didn't see any lights on the road. He didn't see any shapes in the darkness out in the forest. Jimmy felt like he was the only person in the world. Alone, abandoned...bereft.

"Mr. Palmer? Why is it so dark in here? Did the batteries die?"

Jimmy paused in his trek.

"No, Dr. Mallard. I turned it off. Didn't want anyone to see in here."

"Any sign of them?" Ducky asked, sounding a little amused.

"No...but that doesn't mean they're not there!"

Jimmy saw Ducky sit up but he couldn't discern any facial features.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy. I suppose I'm doing a little whistling in the dark. I can only hope that we survive the night and that Timothy will as well. There is so little we can plan on, not knowing where we are or what direction we must travel. Hope can help."

Jimmy walked over and crouched in front of Ducky.

"How? How can it help? If someone starts shooting at us, what good will hope do? I just don't get it!"

"In terms of being able to keep them from firing their weapons at us? Perhaps nothing...in fact, probably, there's no way it could help us in the event of someone shooting at us."

"Then, what good is it?"

"The same good that a positive attitude is for those who are struggling against cancer or other illnesses. Why should that make a difference? Who knows, but it does. So I will do my best to keep my hope, to keep my spirits high. The alternative is to despair, and I don't see that it will be of any benefit to us either."

Jimmy laughed a little.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. It's just that...I'm not used to feeling helpless. There's always been _something_ I can do, but here...the car isn't working. Tim is hurt too bad for me to do anything. If any of those guys come after us...I don't know what to do. I've never felt like there was _nothing_ I could do."

"I have," Ducky said softly. "And it's a horrible feeling if you feel that you must be able to do something in order to succeed. Desperation can lead to...terrible results. I learned that lesson long ago and now I try to remember the lesson so that I can avoid repeating those lessons already learned."

"That woman's brother?" Jimmy asked, after hesitating for a moment. He knew that was a painful memory.

"Yes, lad."

"Does everyone have to go through something like that?"

"Not necessarily. The lucky ones do not. In this case, you are not alone, nor friendless. Even if Timothy is unable to help us, we can know that he would were he able."

"I think he's developing sepsis."

Ducky nodded. "Yes, I feared the same. What he needs we cannot give him, but he is far from being in a hopeless state. Can we but last out the night, we will be able to..."

Ducky broke off suddenly.

"Did you hear that, lad?"

Jimmy froze and listened. At first, all he could hear was the rain on the roof.

"No...I..."

A very audible twig snapped.

"Yes."

Ducky sighed.

"I believe that we have reached that point at which hope may not help but it will not hinder. It is unlikely that they will not see and attempt to penetrate this dwelling."

Jimmy looked around at the darkness, defined by the walls of the small cabin.

"There's nowhere to hide."

"That would appear to be the case," Ducky agreed softly. "Which means that we are in desperate straits."

"Meaning?"

"What you think it means, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said didactically. "There are ample examples of it in military history. Here in this country, Custer's Last Stand. In Dutch, there is the _verloren hoop_ or the 'lost heap'. It is often translated as lost hope. The Japanese very famously have the kamikaze attack."

"Um...Dr. Mallard, I'm not big on the idea of a suicide attack. I'd prefer the option of living."

"I wasn't meaning that specifically, Mr. Palmer. I simply mean that we are at our last chance. We must develop some plan in the likely event that we are discovered."

"But..."

Ducky got to his feet. "Mr. Palmer, how good are your acting skills?"

"Not very."

"Very well. Then, I will leave Timothy to your care."

"Huh?"

"We need a distraction, something to attract their attention. What better than someone stuck with a non-functioning vehicle?"

Jimmy leapt to his feet. "But, Dr. Mallard! What if they realize that–?"

"All the more reason for one of us to stay. Your job may be the more difficult, but I have no doubt that you are equal to the task. You are to protect Timothy and keep both of you from being discovered. No matter the cost, even if that cost be me."

"No, Doctor!"

"Yes, lad. This is not something that is up for discussion. You will remain with Timothy. I will go to our car. In the event that I am able to escape suspicion, I will attempt to get help to you. Otherwise, the burden will be on you. For that, I am sorry, but I know that Timothy will be safe with you."

Before Jimmy had time to think of any kind of protest, Ducky strode to the door of the cabin and slipped out almost silently.

Leaving Jimmy alone in the dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ducky swallowed his fears as he walked back to the road, making as little noise as he could. In his mind he was already fearing for Jimmy and Tim. He wasn't so worried about himself. He was a pretty good actor, but if it didn't work...well, he'd had a good life. Jimmy, while capable, was also not really skilled in the area of deception and evasion. He still remembered Jimmy's reaction to helping Ziva covertly. He wasn't sure about it, but when he'd decided, his only requirement...

" _All right. I want a codename, something cool sounding."_

Jimmy wasn't the same man he'd been back then, but still...

Ducky broke through the trees back to the road. If he'd been seen by the people walking through the forest, they hadn't given any sign of it. He was breathless, but that was all to the better. The rain still fell. He would prefer it if the rain stopped, although the continuing precipitation would be more likely to give cover should Jimmy be forced to leave the cabin.

He crafted an attitude of exhausted dejection as he walked toward the car. He had been unsuccessful in finding help. He was wet. He was tired, and his phone wasn't working. He was coming back from a conference, lost his way, and needed some help.

Of course, if these men had seen him in the forest, that would be much harder to cover...unless...

_Yes, I found the cabin and thought that there might be someone there, but, alas, it was empty._

Hanged for a penny. Hanged for a pound. The American saying was to go big or go home. Either way, Ducky was ready. He continued walking toward the car.

When he got near to it, he heard more snapping twigs. That told him that these people knew how seriously Tim was injured and had no worries about needing to hide their treads. They figured it was only a matter of time before they caught up with their prey, a man who would be unable to avoid them. Once they found him, it was over.

"Hello?" Ducky called out loudly. "Anyone there?"

A brief silence.

"Hello?" he tried again, infusing uncertainty into his tone. He wasn't sure he'd heard anything now...or at least that's what he wanted them to think.

"Who's out there in this weather?" A voice returned. It didn't sound threatening or suspicious. They could be acting like he was or he could have succeeded in fooling them. He would assume he was succeeding. He saw two sudden beams of light. Those hadn't been there before.

"My car broke down, and I have to admit that I'm a bit lost."

Two men came out of the forest. Neither looked intimidating in the slightest...but Ducky had to keep himself from tensing.

"What's wrong with your car, sir?"

"I don't know. The electrical system seems to have conked out on me. I'm afraid I'm not very knowledgeable about cars. Would you be able to help me out?"

"You're pretty trusting."

"I have very little option," Ducky said. "There are two of you, and even were I much younger, I doubt I could fight you off were it necessary. I choose to think the best of people in the hope that they will do me the pleasure of behaving as I hope."

The two men chuckled and walked over to the car. Ducky was sure that, had he no suspicions that they were the ones going after Tim, he would be completely taken in by them.

"I can't guarantee that we'll be able to do anything, but we'll take a look."

"What brings _you_ out in this storm?" Ducky asked. "It's not fit for man nor beast."

"We're searching for a friend of ours. We think he may be lost. Have you seen anyone out tonight?"

"Not a one. I wish I had. Not even another car on the road. My phone is inoperable."

"This is a dead zone for cell phones. No one's phones work out here."

"Alas. I have terrible luck. Was your friend hiking?"

"We're not sure."

"Joey!"

Another voice from the forest. The man named Joey straightened from bending over the engine.

"What is it?"

"A mark!"

"Sorry, sir. I have to go check this out."

Ducky nodded but had to swallow to get rid of the pit of fear welling up inside him. A sign! A new one or one from Tim's original path?

"That's fine. I've been stuck here this long. I can wait a bit longer."

"Chas, come on."

The other left. Ducky stood alone beside his car, his heart in his throat. There was nothing he could say that would stop them. He could say something that would likely get himself killed, but since there were so many of them...nothing he could do would be anything but futile. So he stood by the car and prayed that Jimmy had got away safely.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy knelt beside Tim, feeling more than a little worried...only now, it was for Ducky as well as Tim...but he was more worried than ever that they weren't safe in here. Those men out there would surely see the cabin and would come to check it. It was just one room. There was nowhere to hide...and they had no weapons to fend them off. In short, they were sitting ducks in here.

 _Sitting duckies,_ Jimmy thought suddenly in a burst of whimsy.

Quickly, he made a decision and knelt beside Tim. He shook him gently, trying to get him awake.

"Tim, come on! Wake up! We've got to go! The men who were after you are coming!"

To his surprise, Tim pulled himself up.

"Time to go back?" he asked. "Is it time to go back?"

"Uh...yes! Yes, Tim. It's time to go back," Jimmy said, seizing on the one thing that might get Tim moving. "I'll help you, but you'll have to lead me...and we need to be quiet."

Tim was still feverish, and he didn't look like he was really aware of anything beyond this need to return to wherever he'd come from. Still, he got up and leaned heavily on Jimmy. Going back, if Tim could actually get them there, might be dangerous...but if they were all out looking for him, then going in the opposite direction might be the safest way to go, particularly since Jimmy had no idea where to go for help...if there was any to be found.

"We've got to go back," Tim mumbled. "Back...back...promised..."

"We're going back, Tim. I promise. You have to stay quiet, though."

Tim sagged against Jimmy, his head flopping limply. Jimmy hesitated...and then...

_Thwack!_

"Wake up, Tim!"

Tim straightened instantly.

"Boss?"

Jimmy suppressed a chuckle. Those head slaps really worked...although he'd never dare to do it with Tim in his right mind. Tim might take it better than some, but he would still not appreciate it in any way.

"He's not here, Tim."

"Have to go back," Tim said and started to walk forward, only to collapse against Jimmy once again without his support.

"We're going. Let's go."

Jimmy had to hold up a lot more of Tim's weight than he thought he would, but they headed for the door and then out.

"Go. Go..."

"Shh, quiet, Tim."

Tim fell silent. Jimmy started them walking further into the forest...away from the snapping twigs.

"Which way?" Jimmy whispered.

Tim was fading again, his head dropping forward.

"Up...go back..."

Up the hill. Of course. The most difficult path. Tim had said he was falling. Maybe he'd tripped and fallen down the hill. Was this a bad idea? If Tim wasn't completely out of his mind, they'd be heading toward the most dangerous place they could be.

...but if they were going to survive in the forest, they had to be willing to take a chance, to risk everything. Tim wasn't really making that choice, but Jimmy was ready to be responsible for his decision.

They struggled up the hill. Jimmy was constantly looking around for anyone coming after them, but at the same time, he was trying to keep Tim from falling to the ground as he exerted energy he really didn't have. Jimmy hoped that this wasn't killing Tim. He wasn't sure if it was or not. He knew that Tim needed medical attention, but he also knew that Tim wouldn't get that out here. He knew that the best chance Tim had was to get somewhere that had that help available...and if they could save the team at the same time, all the better.

So, in spite of Tim's gasping for breath, Jimmy kept them walking. When they reached the top of the hill, Tim collapsed, breathing heavily and irregularly. His heart rate was too high. Jimmy had to let him rest even though he knew that nothing would be cured by something so simple as rest.

"Tim, I hope I'm doing the right thing," Jimmy whispered. "I just don't know. Ducky's so much better at this stuff than I am. He always has the answers...even when he doesn't. Have you noticed that about him? He just seems to know...and when he doesn't know, he still knows. It doesn't make sense."

Jimmy fell silent, staring down through the darkness of the hillside, hoping that Ducky was okay, hoping that they'd all get out of this alive.

Then, Tim started to crawl forward again.

"Go...forward...got to keep going...back...back..."

"Okay, Tim. Let's...let's go again," Jimmy said, hating the wheezing sound of Tim's voice, hating the delirium that was leaving it to Jimmy to make the decisions that could mean life or death. Who would want to have that on his head?

They started to walk once more, Tim dragging Jimmy in what he seemed to think was the right direction and only barely keeping on his feet. After another ten minutes, Jimmy was surprised to see a cabin, larger than the one they'd been in. Only a single light was on inside. Was this the place? Jimmy had no idea.

"Tim?"

"Go back...gotta go back..."

Tim slipped out of Jimmy's grasp and slid to the ground, groaning in pain, panting in exhaustion. Jimmy looked at him in concern. Maybe this would be just a safe haven. Maybe it _wasn't_ the bad guys. Maybe Tim had led them astray, since he was delirious and all.

"What are the odds that we could have been led to a _good_ place by getting lost?" Jimmy asked. "Well, I guess I could go and scout around. I can be quiet. Right. That would be better than dragging Tim around with me. Okay. I'm going."

Jimmy knelt down.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

"Go back..."

"We will, but I need you to stay here. Okay? Can you stay here and be quiet?"

Tim shifted around, feeling the pain as he had before, seeming to be a little bit connected to the world around him.

"I'm hot," he whispered.

Jimmy shook him a little, feeling weird about making demands of Tim, trying to give him orders. It was a strange situation, a reversal of the pecking order...where Jimmy was usually at the bottom. Granted, Tim was hardly at the top, but he was higher than Jimmy was.

"Tim, you need to stay quiet, and stay here. Okay?"

"What's...going on...Jimmy?" Tim asked. "What happened?"

"Tim...listen to me," Jimmy said, wanting to scream in frustration. He wasn't used to being driven to his wit's end. He was used to Ducky being the only real frustration he faced...and that wasn't really that bad. Everything else was just...tolerable.

...but not right now. He was afraid, worried, nervous...and Tim wasn't helping.

"Tim, you have to stay here. Understand?"

"Where is...here?"

"I don't know, but you need to stay where you are. Don't move until I get back."

"Back..."

"Yes."

"Where?"

Jimmy sighed and tried to calm down. He sat down beside Tim who was looking completely bewildered. He didn't know what was going on. He didn't know what had happened to him. He didn't know where he was. He couldn't help the way he was right now, and if he remembered this later on, he would be mortified. ...if they survived it.

"Tim, I know you're confused and I know that you don't get what's going on. Can you trust me?"

Tim stared at him for a long time.

"Yes."

"Good. Stay here. I'll be back."

"Okay..."

"Good."

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really hot."

"I know. You have a high fever. I'm going to get you some help." Jimmy hoped he wasn't lying. "Just stay here."

Tim nodded slowly and then his face screwed up in pain. He leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes tightly.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, Tim."

Jimmy got to his feet and started to creep around the house. He peeked in all the windows, feeling like a Peeping Tom.

...but that feeling vanished when he looked in one of the basement-level windows. It was dark...but he could see people inside. People who seemed to be restrained. People who could be Gibbs, Tony and Ziva.

"Oh, great," Jimmy moaned softly. Now that he'd found them, he had to figure out what he should do. Should he try to save even more people he couldn't save? Or should he try to save the person who was also in danger of dying from infection?

Putting off the decision, Jimmy decided to continue his investigation of the house. He crept around, looking for entries to the basement, trying to figure out how many people were still in the house.

He tentatively snuck around to the one window showing a light.

...and when he got there, his heart plummeted to his shoes from what he saw there.

"Tim!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

From his shoes, Jimmy's heart then sprang up into his throat. Tim had _not_ stayed where Jimmy had told him to stay. He was clearly delirious again and he had staggered into the house. The man in the room started to his feet in surprise. Then, he smiled...but any hope Jimmy had that this might be a nice person, that Tim had been mistaken in the location, was dashed when the smile turned to a sneer.

"Everyone is out looking for you...and here you are. You're looking a little worse for the wear."

Tim fell to his knees. "Let them...go..." he gasped. It didn't even seem to be an order.

"Who's going to make me? You? How's your back? I'll bet it doesn't feel so good." The man pulled out a gun and lazily grinned at Tim. He was in no hurry. Tim was alone, very weak, possibly dying. What reason was there to rush?

Jimmy had a moment of complete panic. What was he going to do? Ducky would kill him if he let anything happen to Tim. Ducky had _trusted_ Jimmy to take care of someone who was unable to take care of himself...and Tim was in that room, confronting a dangerous man in a delirious state.

"I have to do something..." Jimmy whispered...but what?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky didn't know what to do. The men had run off through the forest, leaving him behind, yelling to each other. They had dismissed him easily. His ploy had succeeded, but it hadn't been enough to keep them away. All that remained was to run back to the cabin and hope he could be of some help.

The rain was easing off finally. Ducky barely noticed as he hurried as quickly as he could up the road and then off into the forest once more. He gave up on being silent. If there was going to be a confrontation, he felt that he had to be there.

He reached the cabin...and groaned breathlessly. It was empty. But he saw no immediate signs that they had been _discovered_ there. Perhaps Jimmy had been too nervous to stay there...and it might have been the best idea, if it came down to that.

...but that didn't help him know where they would have gone. They couldn't have gone _anywhere_ very quickly. Tim's injuries wouldn't allow it. He would be one step above being dead weight...but he couldn't see any sign of them.

Where to look?

Then, he heard voices. He quickly hid himself in a dense copse of trees.

"Can you tell where he went?"

"They."

"They?"

"Come on. You saw how far gone that cop was. He's not going to be running anywhere."

"Yeah, well, we didn't think he'd be able to get _anywhere_ the way he was...and he still got away."

"He didn't have that stuff in the cabin with him when he left, either."

"The British guy on the road?"

Ducky stiffened.

"You think? He's a bit old for a rescue attempt."

"True...and if he was there to help, the broke down car isn't exactly the best getaway."

"You sure it wasn't working?"

"Looked burned out to me."

"Okay. Let's see if we can find him...or _them_."

"What about the old guy?"

"Forget him. If he's part of it, he's not important. Phones don't work and the car wasn't working, either. Whoever was with the cop is the one we have to worry about. Let's head back. We can regroup and plan."

The rustling and occasional snapping twigs signaled the departure of four men. Ducky took a deep breath and let it out silently. Wherever Jimmy and Tim were, and Ducky hoped it was out of harm's way, this might be the only chance to find out where the rest of the MCRT had gone and whether or not they were still alive.

Ducky knew he was taking a risk...but it was a risk worth taking when he was only risking himself. As quietly as he could, he slipped out of his hiding spot and began to follow.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy looked around, hoping for some sort of inspiration...and hoping that the inspiration would hit him in the next few seconds because he wasn't sure how long Tim had.

He started walking toward the house...and tripped on a branch. He started cussing under his breath...and then stopped.

Inspiration.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he picked up the branch...and he started to run. No more thinking. He had one thought only and he wasn't going to allow any other to penetrate.

Tim was in danger. Jimmy had no weapons...except for a tree branch. Hoping against hope that the door wouldn't repel him, Jimmy threw himself at the screen door. The mesh tore under the force of his assault. The man in the room turned from his assessment of Tim...but too slowly.

Jimmy was a man on a mission and he was swinging the branch before the man had really grasped what was happening. Jimmy swung with all his might and got a solid hit on the side of the man's head. The man staggered. Not fully in control of what he was doing, Jimmy let adrenaline choose his next course.

He swung the branch again this time bringing it straight down over his head and it broke in half when he made contact. The man fell to the floor. Jimmy wondered briefly if he'd killed him, but he couldn't take the time for that because Tim had collapsed once again, but he was trying to move.

Jimmy ran over to him and knelt down.

"Tim...are you all right?"

"Back..."

It was all Jimmy could do not to roll his eyes...but this was a chance to get more help! If the team was here and they were alive, then he could free them and _they_ could make the decisions.

"Where are they? In the basement?"

Tim suddenly fell to the floor, trying hard to breathe.

"Okay. Okay, Tim. Please, stay here this time and don't try to move. You're too hurt for more. I'll get them. If they're here I'll get them."

Tim didn't reply, and so Jimmy ran for the stairs, down into the darkness.

"Agent Gibbs?" he called out, throwing caution to the winds.

An incredulous voice answered him. "Palmer?"

"Where are you?" Jimmy asked, ignoring the tone. There was no reason they should expect to hear him of all people.

"In the worst room in the place." That was Tony.

"Which one is that?"

"Just start trying to open doors, Jimmy!"

"Right. Right. Of course."

There weren't many doors. It wasn't a large basement. Jimmy tried them all and found one that was locked. He knocked on it.

"Are you in here?"

"Yes!"

"Okay!" Jimmy looked around for something to open the door. His eyes fell on a brick that had come loose from the fireplace. What else could he do? He picked it up and smashed it against the doorknob. Then, he pushed open the door.

Gibbs, Tony and Ziva were all tied up in separate corners of the room. The room reeked and Jimmy couldn't keep his nose from crinkling at the odor. ...but while they were all disheveled and dirty, none looked too bad.

"Jimmy...what in the world are you doing here?" Ziva demanded.

"Long story. How do I get you free?"

"No keys?" Tony asked.

"Uh...where should I look?"

"Is there someone in the house?"

"Yeah...well...there's the guy I smashed on the head with the tree branch."

"Way to go," Tony said, sounding genuinely impressed.

"Check him. He might have the key," Gibbs said.

Jimmy nodded and ran back upstairs. Tim was still where Jimmy had left him. Jimmy paused and knelt beside him.

"Tim?"

No response. Jimmy felt his stomach clench.

"Tim? I found them. They're going to be okay."

Tim's eyes fluttered open.

"Back?" he whispered.

"Yeah. We're back and I'm going to get the keys to get them out right now."

Tim just lay back and closed his eyes again. Jimmy knew he had to hurry; so he overcame any worry he had about whether or not the man was alive and searched him. He found a key ring in one pocket. Without another thought, he snatched them and ran back down the stairs.

"I found some keys, but I don't know if they're the right ones."

"You could turn on a light, Palmer," Gibbs said.

"I don't think that's a good idea. The others might come back at any time," Jimmy said. "They're out there in the forest. When they don't find Tim..."

"You know where McGee is?" Ziva asked eagerly.

"He's upstairs...and he's really not good," Jimmy said as he fiddled with the keys. "Ducky and I..."

"You're _both_ out here?"

"Yeah."

"Jimmy?"

"Yes, Agent Gibbs?"

"Give me the keys."

"Oh...sorry." Jimmy cursed inwardly that he was changing into the bumbling person he always was around Gibbs. He handed him the keys and Gibbs started trying them in the locks on his chains.

It didn't take long before Gibbs was free and then he got Tony and Ziva unchained as well.

"McGee," Gibbs said, grimly.

Jimmy nodded and led them out and up the stairs. In the light of the main room, Jimmy winced at how bad they looked. They'd probably been in that room for days...but they were all ignoring whatever hurts they felt when they saw Tim on the floor. They knelt down by him.

"We've got to get him out of here," Tony said. "Now."

"But we can't leave Ducky!" Jimmy protested. "He's out there somewhere and I have no idea if they found him or not! We can't leave without him!"

Then, Jimmy's anxiety and his worry caused him to look out the windows. He dropped to the floor quickly.

"I think they're coming here!" Jimmy said. "Who are they?"

"Weapons smugglers," Ziva said. "They stole a shipment of arms. We were tracking them down."

Tony was searching around the room for their guns. "And they took us completely by surprise. If they're coming we need to fight them off this time! No more of them getting _us_!"

"Calm down, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. He moved away from Tim and to the unconscious man. He grabbed the gun. "Jimmy...see if there's a landline in here. Ziva..."

"I will think of something," Ziva said, crawling toward the kitchen.

They all tried to stay out of sight. The men didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry. Why would they be? They didn't expect anything to happen.

"Aha! A gun!" Tony said happily. "Hey...this is one of _our_ guns."

Ziva found a serrated knife in the kitchen.

Jimmy looked around, crawling into various areas, looking for a working phone. At one point, he paused in his search and looked back toward Tim. Gibbs was sitting beside him, gun in hand. He was alert for the arrival of their captors...but he had one hand on Tim's shoulder, keeping him where he was. It was almost like he was asserting his position as Tim's superior.

"What's the plan, Boss?" Tony asked.

Gibbs looked at Jimmy, raising his eyebrows. Jimmy quickly looked around...and he saw a phone on a desk. Quickly, he ran over to it and picked it up. No dial tone. He shook his head.

Gibbs just nodded.

"We take them out," he said grimly. "Jimmy, get Tim out of the way and keep him safe."

"It is our turn," Ziva said. Her voice promised retribution.

Jimmy nodded and crawled over to Tim. Gibbs helped him pull Tim to a corner.

"Stay there," he ordered.

Jimmy nodded. Only twice had he been in on a takedown. He wasn't sure he liked it very much...and he'd never been charged with protecting someone before.

"Tony...turn off the light," Gibbs said.

Tony nodded.

Once again, Jimmy was sitting in the dark and he swallowed nervously. If this didn't work out right...

Jimmy wished that Ducky were here. He'd know what to do, what to say.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Ducky saw the men approaching a large cabin in a clearing in the forest. He had managed to keep up with them, although it had tired him out. He was trying as hard as anything else to avoid gasping for breath. The rain had almost stopped. While there was some wind blowing, most of the noise around came from the group of men walking through the forest. Ducky had no interest in revealing himself to them by making more noise.

"Hey, wait!"

"What?"

"The light just went out inside."

"Alan's in there."

"You think they got free?"

"Maybe we should be careful going in. Do we want to take a chance?"

"No way."

Ducky heard them pull out their guns. He looked around for inspiration and his eyes fell on a convenient branch. He smiled. Branches were ready-made weapons that were too often overlooked. He'd used them more than once himself. Perhaps he could do something. It sounded like they were worried about people getting free...meaning the MCRT. If they _were_ free, that meant that the fewer men coming at them, the better.

"You two take the back. I'll go in the basement and Chas'll take the front."

Perfect. Two alone. Ducky picked up his branch and hefted it. It had a good weight but wasn't too heavy to swing. He picked out the one headed for the basement and began to follow him. He had to make sure he stayed quiet because he had no delusions that a gun would beat a branch anytime...and a young man had a definite advantage over an old one. No, he would have to forego chivalry and just knock him out if possible.

He snuck through the trees, shadowing the man through the darkness toward the house. As he got to the house, Ducky got close enough almost to touch him...but he didn't do something nearly so nice. Instead, he thought of all that these men had likely done to Timothy, all that they _might_ have done to the others and he brought the branch down as hard as he could on the man's head. Then, he paused, listening for someone coming over to check out the sound. The man had dropped without a cry, but the thwack Ducky had given him hadn't been silent by any means. He could only hope that the sound hadn't carried.

Was that enough? Probably not. There were others and if his friends were free and if they weren't armed, three men with guns would outnumber them. Decision made, Ducky began to creep around to the front of the house where the one named Chas had gone.

The more he could take out, the better...but he wasn't sure he could get close enough this time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was back in one of his semi-coherent stages, meaning that he didn't know what was going on, but he seemed to take in genuine stimuli. He stared at Jimmy.

"We...were outside," he whispered.

"Yeah, now we're inside," Jimmy said. "Sh. Quiet, Tim."

Tim started to shift around uncomfortably and seemed to be trying to find a position that didn't hurt him.

"Gotta...no..."

He was slipping away again.

"Tim, you need to stay quiet," Jimmy said. "I know it hurts and I know you're hot, but you need to shut up!"

Suddenly, Ziva was there beside them. She put her hand on Tim's forehead and looked concerned.

"His injury was an accident," she whispered. "They would not let us help him."

"Figured," Jimmy said.

"Ziva...coming...coming back...not...leave..."

Gently, Ziva covered Tim's mouth with her hand.

"We are here, McGee. You will be safe."

Then, a determined look crossed her face and Ziva crawled over to Gibbs and whispered to him. Jimmy couldn't hear what she said, but he watched as she moved away from Gibbs and vanished into the basement. The men had delayed their approach, more than likely because of the sudden darkness inside. It had given Gibbs, Tony and Ziva a chance to prepare themselves better for what was coming, but they couldn't wait forever.

Jimmy kept a hold of Tim, but his mind was wandering to Ducky and wondering what had happened to him.

As if in answer to his thoughts...

"I say, your two friends at the back didn't answer me. Could you tell me where I am?"

Ducky!

Jimmy heard a flurry of activity outside the cabin, and he was afraid that he'd hear Ducky being shot.

"Tony!" Gibbs ordered.

Tony ran for the front door while Gibbs stayed focused on the back. Jimmy's heart was in his throat.

"Freeze!" he heard Tony shout.

Then, there was a shot. Suddenly, the door at the back burst open as well and there was a lot more action. Jimmy pulled Tim into the corner, ignoring his groans and he tried to cover Tim with his own body.

A large figure loomed over Jimmy and he looked at him, thinking that, no matter what Gibbs was doing right now, he was about to die. He moved his arms to block as much of Tim from view as possible.

"If you do not stop now, you will die where you stand," a female voice hissed out of the darkness.

The man stopped where he was and his hands raised up.

"Jimmy, are you well?"

"Ziva!" Jimmy said with relief.

"Drop your gun," Ziva said.

The gun clattered to the floor.

"Get it, Jimmy."

Jimmy nodded and hurried to grab the gun.

"Gibbs?"

"We're fine over here."

"Tony?"

"He's outside still."

The lights went on, and Jimmy saw Ziva with a knife at the man's throat, Gibbs by the light switch.

"Dr. Mallard...is he okay?" Jimmy asked.

"Don't know," Gibbs said. "Stay with Tim. Ziva, cuff him...with whatever."

Ziva smiled. "Yes, Gibbs."

Gibbs went out the front door, leaving Jimmy still facing the man Ziva had restrained.

"Jimmy, go and get the chains from downstairs," she said.

Jimmy nodded and ran as fast as he could, not wanting to leave Ziva alone for long, even though he knew she was more than capable...in fact, far more capable than he himself was. Still...

He grabbed the chains and ran back upstairs. Ziva was still holding the knife on her captive.

"Chain his hands," Ziva said. "Quickly."

"Okay." Jimmy wrapped the chain around the man's wrists and then locked it securely.

Ziva forced the man to the floor.

"If you move I will shoot you," Ziva said, snatching the gun from Jimmy. "Help Tim," she added to Jimmy.

Jimmy knelt down by Tim and grimaced at the sight. It seemed like Tim had worsened dramatically just in the last few minutes. His face was almost gray. His eyes were half-open and he was shaking.

"Is Dr. Mallard out there?" Jimmy asked desperately. "Dr. Mallard!"

The door opened. Ziva lifted her gun up briefly but relaxed when Ducky, Gibbs and Tony came in with another of their former captors in tow. ...but Jimmy saw only Ducky. He was so relieved to see that Ducky was all right, and more importantly, he was _there_.

"Mr. Palmer," Ducky said, looking almost as happy to see Jimmy as Jimmy was to see him. "I'm glad to see that you're all right."

"Tim's not," Jimmy said.

Ducky nodded and hurried over. He knelt down beside Jimmy.

"Oh, dear," he murmured. "Jethro, we _must_ get Timothy to a hospital. Now."

Gibbs looked around. They had two men in custody, one man seriously injured. No working phones. Tim groaned and panted.

"No...can't...go back...go back..."

"Okay. Tony, Ziva. Stay here, guard these two. Ducky, you and Jimmy will come with me in their car and take Tim to Westernport. There's got to be a hospital there and it's closest."

"Boss," Tony began.

"I'll call for help and then come back to help you. How many days has it been?"

Ducky shrugged. "I'm not sure. Mr. Palmer and I were on our way back from our conference."

"Five days. Vance must be up in arms," Gibbs said and then shook his head and focused on the situation at hand. "Jimmy, help me get Tim to the car."

Jimmy nodded. Tim was still barely conscious, but he recognized Gibbs' voice.

"Boss...I..."

"Just relax, Tim. We're going to get you to a hospital."

"...sorry..."

"You did good, McGee. Don't worry."

Gibbs bent over and lifted Tim off the ground. Jimmy hurried to help and Ducky joined them. As they left the cabin, Jimmy couldn't help feeling that this was all a bit surreal. Only a day ago, he would never have imagined any of it, and now, they were on the back end of an NCIS case...without any intent to be a part of it at all.

The car turned out to be a suburban. They flipped down the seat and lay Tim out as best they could. Ducky joined Jimmy in the back while Gibbs drove. What surprised Jimmy was that Gibbs said nothing, didn't ask questions, didn't wonder why they were there. He just focused on driving. Ducky, for his part, focused only on Tim while they were driving. ...and Tim was bad enough. He was breathing badly. What little awareness he had was focused on the pain he felt. He could be dying.

"Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy whispered.

"What, Mr. Palmer?"

"Did I make the wrong choice? I made Tim leave the cabin. I let him lead me back to that place. Should I have stayed?"

Ducky looked at Jimmy, although his face was in shadow. He patted Jimmy on the shoulder.

"No, lad. I don't think so. They would likely have found you there. Timothy was in dire straits regardless. I don't think you can take responsibility for this."

"Yes, he can," Gibbs said suddenly.

Jimmy swallowed and looked down.

"He can take responsibility for keeping McGee alive."

Jimmy looked silently at Ducky and he thought he saw an understanding smile.

"God willing, Timothy will pull through. We are now getting him to a hospital where they can do what is necessary to help him. Don't count Timothy out just yet."

Jimmy nodded.

Gibbs got them to the hospital within half an hour. He didn't linger although he was clearly concerned. He simply dropped them off, made sure they were being seen and had the information necessary and then headed to the police station to get backup for Tony and Ziva. He seemed exhausted by his time in captivity, but he wasn't about to shirk his duties.

For his part, Jimmy followed Ducky and let him do a lot of the talking as the hospital staff took Tim into the ER. After getting all the details, Jimmy and Ducky were asked to sit and wait and they'd be contacted when Tim was stabilized. With nothing to do, they walked to the waiting room and sat down.

"Mr. Palmer?"

"Yeah?"

"Well done, lad."

Jimmy tried to smile, but he felt too worried. So he just shrugged. Ducky shifted over to sit beside him and put an arm around Jimmy's shoulders.

"Really, lad. Well done. If Timothy can survive all this, it will be, in large measure, due to your care of him."

"No, Doctor. I didn't..."

"Yes, Jimmy," Ducky said firmly. "Part of life is learning when to acknowledge that you have done well. It doesn't matter whether or not you were sure of what you chose to do. Certainty is overrated in cases such as these. What matters is that you survived it...as did Timothy."

"So far," Jimmy said.

"Yes. So far." Ducky settled back. "I will choose to be optimistic. To pass the time, tell me of your side of the adventure we had during this very long night. I don't think either of us will be sleeping much."

Jimmy finally felt like smiling. "It was a lot of walking around."

"As was mine, but I think both of us can make it exciting," Ducky said with a twinkle in his eye. "You go first. Then, I will."

Jimmy smiled again and nodded. "Okay. I didn't stay in the cabin very long after you left..."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Ducky put up an optimistic front for Jimmy's sake, but he was worried. Gibbs had given details to the hospital staff that they hadn't heard. It tallied with what they had surmised. The men had come upon them while they were tracking stolen munitions. There had been a scuffle. Tony and Ziva had been on the receiving end of some harsh treatment, but Tim's injury had been, by far, the worst...and basically accidental. While subduing Tim, the one Ducky had identified as Chas had flung him against a tree with an unfortunately-placed branch. Tim's cry of pain had taken them all by surprise...even their captors. A piece of the branch had broken off in his back, and they had ripped it out, which hadn't helped. All that had been done for Tim was to stop the bleeding. Otherwise, nothing. Tim had gone downhill quickly and had been delirious for a full day before he had escaped.

SIRS, sepsis, septic shock...mortality rates went up as the condition became more serious. They were just waiting to find out what the doctors had discovered. Knowing that, even though they had got Tim medical aid, he could die kept Ducky from relaxing enough to sleep. Jimmy was dozing beside him. Looking at his protégé, Ducky couldn't help but smile, even in the midst of his worry. It was amusing that they had both come up with the same solution to their plan of attack. No matter what came out of this, Jimmy had a done an amazing job of taking care of Tim, and he had taken that responsibility seriously.

A doctor came into the waiting room and looked around. It was now close to 9 a.m., less than 12 hours since the car had broken down.

"Who is here for Timothy McGee?"

Jimmy came awake instantly, looking around blearily.

"Time to go?" he mumbled.

Ducky smiled.

"We are here," he said. "Mr. Palmer, the doctor is here."

Jimmy rubbe alreadyd his eyes and shook his head, trying to wake himself up.

"Oh...sorry, Dr. Mallard. I fell asleep."

"Perfectly allowable, Mr. Palmer."

Ducky stood and walked over to the doctor. Jimmy followed after as quickly as he could.

"Timothy?" he asked.

"It's serious. I won't pretend otherwise, but the infection hasn't progressed as far as we were afraid it had. We've started him on broad-spectrum antibiotics and we're analyzing the infection in his wound to see what others we'll need. He's on vasopressors to raise his blood pressure, and we're giving him oxygen support. The next couple of days are going to be the deciding factors as to whether or not he pulls through."

"What are the odds?" Jimmy asked.

"He could still make it fine. There was some internal damage from the initial wound. We've given him a blood transfusion. The main issue is that he went for so many days without treatment. It gave the infection a chance to worsen and spread."

"What is the mortality rate?" Jimmy asked.

The doctor nodded in acceptance of Jimmy's insistence. "Mortality rates range from 15 to 25 percent. We're hopeful that he'll pull through. It's just going to take time to see."

"Okay."

"If you want to come back and see him, you can. Technically, visiting hours haven't started yet, but I'll allow it for now. What about his family?"

"I think we will have to call them. I don't know if others will have done so. We'll find out."

"All right. Come on back."

Ducky and Jimmy walked back to the ICU. It was quite small and Tim was the only patient there at the moment. He was pale and still. IVs, monitors, oxygen...there was no question that here lay a very sick man. Jimmy looked at Tim silently. Ducky touched his arm and gestured for him to sit. Ducky took a seat beside the bed. He felt Tim's forehead. There was still a fever.

"Is he going to be okay, Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy asked, almost plaintively.

"I don't know, Mr. Palmer. We shall have to wait and see. I am still hopeful."

Jimmy swallowed and nodded.

"While we are waiting for some sign, I believe we were interrupted in our game," Ducky said.

Jimmy looked at Ducky, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Huh?"

"We were playing 20 questions, were we not? I had asked three questions."

Jimmy smiled a little.

"Do you remember what your object was?"

"Yeah."

"Very well. Is it found in a hospital?"

"Sometimes."

"Interesting answer. Is it fabric?"

"No."

"Is it plastic?"

"No. That's six."

"Metallic?"

"Yes. Seven."

"Bigger than a bread box, sometimes found in a hospital, made of metal. Is it a machine?"

"No. Eight." Jimmy smiled.

"Not the machine that goes 'ping' then," Ducky said and was rewarded with a chuckle. "That's not a question."

"Okay."

"Would it be one of the tools of _our_ trade, then?"

"Yes."

"Ah, I see."

Tim began to stir, distracting them from the game once again. He was murmuring unintelligibly and then, his eyes opened and he started trying to get up. Ducky was there in a moment.

"No, Timothy. Don't try to move. You need to stay where you are and be as quiet as possible."

"They're...they're coming...gotta get away...come back and help...gotta..."

"Timothy, stay still and listen to me."

Tim's eyes were glazed but they did generally look in Ducky's direction. He was sweating just from his minor effort.

"Get the doctor, Jimmy," Ducky ordered.

Jimmy nodded and hurried over to the nurse's station.

"Timothy, everything is all right, now. Jethro and Anthony and Ziva are all free. The men who captured you have been either killed or arrested. All is well. You only need to focus on recovering from you injury. It was very serious and you need to give yourself time to heal. Do you understand?"

Tim blinked at him for a few seconds. In that short time, Jimmy returned with a nurse. Tim's doctor had been called.

"What's your name?" Ducky asked the nurse.

"Alisha," she said.

"Timothy, this is your nurse. Her name is Alisha. You are safe in the hospital."

"Mr. McGee, I'm just going to check your vitals and make sure the infection isn't spreading in the wound on your back, okay?"

Tim was clearly trying to absorb everything that was being said to him, but he wasn't quite getting it. Ducky leaned in close to him, intent on getting Tim to relax and calm down. The less he excited himself, the better off he'd be in being able to recover. There were plenty of other problems to worry about. They didn't need to worry about Tim trying to get back to the MCRT as he found so important to do.

"Timothy, they are safe now. All of them are safe. You don't have to worry about them, now."

That was the important point, he realized. Tim didn't care whether or not _he_ was safe. What mattered was whether or not the ones he had left were.

"Do you understand?"

"They're...okay?" Tim whispered.

"Yes. I promise you."

Tim's eyes moved from Ducky to Alisha to Jimmy and then back to Ducky.

"Where?"

"They're finishing up. They'll be here. They've been worried about you."

"Promise?" Tim asked.

"Yes."

As Ducky had hoped, Tim's heart rate started to slow. It was still elevated, and his breathing was still not quite what they'd like to see, but as he calmed, some improvement from his previous state could be seen. He lay back and let Alisha check him over. Tim's eyes flicked back and forth between Ducky and Jimmy, as if he was waiting for them to disappear or something. His doctor arrived before Alisha finished her check.

"I heard that you'd joined us, Timothy," he said. "I'm Dr. Zeeman. I'm in charge of getting you back to full form."

He pulled out his stethoscope and listened to Tim's heart, not perhaps, because he needed to, but to reassure Tim who was still lying there, unsure of what was going on. His confusion was clear.

"Now, I just need you to relax, sleep and let us do all the leg work for you. All right?"

Tim nodded, but it wasn't really an expression of agreement. It was just because he knew that was the expected response.

"Don't worry about a thing. You're in excellent hands."

Tim stayed awake for another ten minutes and then he slipped back into sleep. Dr. Zeeman encouraged them to stay so that Tim could be instantly calmed if he woke up in the same state of confusion later on.

Jimmy still seemed bothered by everything, but he didn't complain about staying. Ducky knew that, eventually, they'd both need sleep. They'd both need to take a break, but he couldn't begrudge Jimmy the opportunity to stay and perhaps see some improvement in someone he'd tried to save. That was a special moment for anyone in the medical profession. No matter whether or not Jimmy chose to continue on his track toward being a medical examiner or went the more conventional physician, he still had that same desire to help. It didn't matter whether the desire was fulfilled in preserving life or in explaining life lost.

"Is it the freezer?" Ducky asked softly.

Jimmy jumped a little and looked at Ducky.

"What?"

"Question nine, Mr. Palmer. Is it the freezer?"

Jimmy smiled a little. "No."

"Is it...the autopsy table?"

"Yes. That's it. Ten questions."

"Not bad."

"Nope. Not bad. Your turn."

"Ah...let me think." Ducky cast about for an idea and settled on something completely innocuous. "Go ahead, Mr. Palmer."

"Is it bigger than a bread box?" Jimmy asked with a smile.

Ducky grinned. "No. It is not."

"Is it alive?"

"No."

"I hope you're not talking about McGee."

The voice was low and unexpected. Ducky turned around. The MCRT was all standing in the doorway, looking worn out and uncertain.

"I'm not, Jethro," Ducky said with a smile. "Timothy is not...well, by any means, but he _is_ alive and is moderately better than he was. How is your case?"

"Vance was apparently contacted and threatened a number of times. They'd been looking for us...but they didn't know where to look. The three who survived are under arrest."

"Three?" Ducky asked, looking at Jimmy.

"Yeah. Three."

Jimmy looked at Tim and then at Gibbs. "Did I kill him?"

Gibbs nodded.

"He was going to kill Tim. I wouldn't have done it otherwise."

"Yeah," Tony said. "And we're glad you did."

Jimmy swallowed and didn't say anything.

"I think Timothy will be relieved to see you all here when he wakens again. Mr. Palmer and I will take some time to rest. Has Timothy's family been contacted?"

"Vance was going to do that. They'll know."

"Good. Are you all doing all right?"

In truth, they looked ragged.

"We're okay," Tony said. "Nothing that a few nights' sleep won't cure...and a shower."

"If you would like to..."

"No," Ziva said, firmly. "We would like to be here for a while. We are clean enough."

Ducky could see that they wanted to see Tim wake up more than anything else. He got up and gestured for Jimmy to do the same. Jimmy got up and walked out of the ICU. Ducky followed him.

"Mr. Palmer...Jimmy."

Jimmy stopped. "I killed someone, Dr. Mallard."

"Yes. To save another."

"I killed someone."

Ducky walked over in front of Jimmy to stop him from walking again...and he was surprised to notice how much taller he was. He had forgotten that his protégé had quite a few inches on him.

"Yes, you did, Jimmy. But you did it to save Timothy's life. It is hard to realize that a man's life has been ended at your hands...no matter what, but you can't let yourself forget the reason for what you chose to do."

Jimmy took a breath and looked as upset as Ducky had ever seen him.

"I wasn't trying to kill him. I was just trying to get him to stop, but I was so afraid that I wouldn't make it."

"Fear gives you strength you never touch at any other moment."

"I don't ever want to touch that again."

"I don't blame you. Not one iota."

Jimmy smiled a little. "Does this feeling go away?"

"Yes. It does. If you let it, and you have too much of your life ahead of you to hold on to the feeling rather than let it go."

"What if Tim dies anyway?" Jimmy asked. "What if it doesn't mean anything? He could still die!"

"It will always mean something, Jimmy," Ducky said firmly. "You saved Timothy's life, even if his injuries become too much for him to recover."

Jimmy swallowed and nodded, but he didn't look convinced.

"Don't give up on Timothy yet. ...and don't put yourself down. You and I were tossed into a situation we were ill-equipped to deal with and we were able to make our way through it."

"You didn't seem out of sorts."

"I was. I'm just better at hiding it."

Jimmy suddenly laughed.

"What?"

"I wish Abby were here."

Ducky smiled. "I'm not Abigail, but..." He gave Jimmy a one-armed hug. "Let us both rest and recover, Jimmy. It is too early to give up."

Jimmy nodded and the two of them walked to the front desk, asked for help in finding a place to sleep and then went to a nearby hotel. As worried as they both were, they were both asleep moments after they were able to lay down on a horizontal surface.

Ducky just hoped that all would go well.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Over the next couple of days, Tim hovered on the brink. Dr. Zeeman wasn't sure which way he'd end up going. They identified the correct antibiotic and added it to the broad-spectrum antibiotics they'd been giving him, but Tim's heart rate and respiration continued to be irregular and his fever remained high as his body fought back against the infection. Tim's parents came and spent a lot of time with him, as would be expected. They had talked with Dr. Zeeman about getting Tim transferred to DC when he was stable enough to be moved.

Ducky and Jimmy visited when they could, but they had to give way to Tim's family, hard though it was to do so. Jimmy was relieved of duty while NCIS investigated what had happened, and Ducky was taking some extra time off himself. Gibbs, Tony and Ziva had to finish up the details of the case and so they hadn't been able to be there much either, although they'd tried to come when they could.

For his part, Tim didn't seem to notice. Even when he was conscious, he wasn't really very connected with reality. He had stopped thinking he needed to go back to the cabin, but beyond that, he hadn't demonstrated significant mental capacity.

It was a waiting game that seemed to get more and more nerve-wracking the longer it went on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ah, Dr. Mallard, Mr. Palmer, you've just missed Timothy's parents," Dr. Zeeman said when Jimmy and Ducky arrived, late in the afternoon.

There was something different about him today. Jimmy looked at Ducky to see if maybe he had noticed it as well. Ducky smiled slightly.

"Is there something that's happened?" Ducky asked.

"Actually, yes."

"What is it?" Jimmy asked. This seemed like a positive thing, not a negative based on Dr. Zeeman's attitude.

"Timothy's fever broke about three o'clock this morning. The infection is finally being resolved...slowly, but we're much more optimistic that he'll make it. When he woke up this morning, he was actually coherent, albeit still quite slow. He's been sleeping most of the time, but he's starting to stabilize. You'll see a difference as soon as you go in."

"Is he awake?" Ducky asked.

"He may be, but I'm not sure. He's been in and out all day."

Jimmy felt the knot of worry in his stomach start to loosen a little. He looked at Ducky and saw a knowing smile on his lips. Ducky had insisted that Jimmy talk to someone even after his debriefing and official statement. It was helping a bit. Now, though, as they walked down the hall to Tim's room, Jimmy felt like there was something more he could look forward to. It was illogical perhaps, but he couldn't help thinking that if Tim survived, then maybe that would balance out the life he had inadvertently taken.

When they got into the ICU, Tim was lying quietly. There were still monitors, IVs, small beeps and clicks...but Tim himself was better. It was hard to pinpoint the exact difference, but there was something that was better. Jimmy sat down beside Ducky.

"Tim?" he said softly.

To his surprise, Tim's eyes opened. The lids were heavy, but Tim's eyes were mostly clear. His eyes wandered from Jimmy to Ducky and back again.

"Hey," he said, after a few seconds. There was a pause and then, Tim smiled. "Sorry...I'm...not quite myself."

Ducky smiled. "That's quite all right, lad. We're ecstatic to see you so much improved."

"This is improved?" Tim asked. "Not...quite sure how I feel about that."

"It's a _lot_ better, Tim," Jimmy said. "You have no idea."

"I really don't," Tim said. "My memory is...pretty fuzzy. I remember...the tree." His eyes closed and he winced, whether in remembered or real pain. "Of all the ways I could have got into trouble in a forest...that didn't...even cross my mind. I remember being stuck in that room for a couple of days, but things get really...not clear after that." His brow furrowed. "What...were you doing there? ...you _were_ there, weren't you?"

"We were," Ducky said.

"The car broke down when we were driving back from the conference," Jimmy said. "...and I got us lost."

Tim smiled and then he reached out and weakly patted Jimmy's arm. "I'm... _really_ glad you did. From what my dad said...you guys saved my life."

"I don't know that we really..." Jimmy started.

"No. If I was so bad off that I don't even remember it...there's no way I could have done anything useful to save myself or anyone else." Tim swallowed hard. "Man...you two...you saved all of us. I have vague images of both of you, but I don't really know what was going on."

"We did our best, Timothy. It may not have been enough had help been delayed any further. I'm glad that it _was_ enough."

"Me, too," Tim said.

"Me, three," Jimmy added quietly.

There was a minute or two of silence. It was almost as though Tim had fallen asleep again, but then, he looked at them both once more, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Did something else happen?" Tim asked. "Did anyone else get hurt? I didn't...I didn't think I remembered that but..."

"No, no one else got hurt," Ducky said.

"I killed someone," Jimmy said almost at the same time, staring at his lap. "He was coming after you. You were delirious and you didn't know what you were doing. He was going to kill you or hurt you even more. I didn't know what to do. I grabbed a branch and ran into the room. I hit him on the head. Twice. It killed him."

Jimmy looked at Tim for a moment and was surprised when Tim started to struggle to sit up. He reached out to stop him...but Ducky just calmly helped Tim reach a more upright position, mostly with the aid of the adjustable bed. Once he was settled so that he could look Jimmy in the eye more easily, he winced a little and half-heartedly reached his hand out...before wincing again and letting it fall back to the bed.

"Jimmy?"

"What?"

"Thank you for doing that for me," Tim said. "I know how it feels to _think_ you've killed someone. To _know_ you've done it...I'm sorry that it was necessary."

Jimmy nodded. "...it was worth it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Tim raised an eyebrow in his usual way. In spite of his pallor and his weakness, that was very... _Tim_.

"Most of the time," Jimmy said.

Tim nodded and then leaned his head back against the bed.

"Man, I'm tired."

"You've been through a lot, Timothy. That's allowed."

"If I've been sleeping all this time..."

"You haven't. Your body has been fighting off a serious infection, one that could have been fatal," Ducky said.

"Yeah."

Ducky smiled and patted Tim on the shoulder.

"It's quite all right to be tired easily right now, Timothy. You don't have to feel that we need to be entertained."

Tim suddenly opened his eyes and looked at them.

"Was I... _entertaining_ when I was...delirious?"

Jimmy smiled, mostly because of the relief that Tim _could_ ask that question...but Tim saw his smile and misinterpreted it.

"Oh...no...what did I do, Jimmy?"

"You weren't entertaining...so much as repetitive...and a little frustrating."

"How?"

"Well...you wouldn't listen to me when I told you to be quiet and stay put. I tried to explain things to you but you didn't get it. ...and once you were talking about flying and castles."

Tim flushed a little bit, giving him some much-needed color.

"I don't remember that."

"I'm not surprised," Jimmy said. "I didn't think you would."

Jimmy suddenly had a touch of whimsy that he didn't think he'd ever feel again. Tim was digesting what he'd already been told. He looked bothered by how much he'd lost in his memory and how close he'd come to dying.

"...and you probably don't remember the fact that we had to take off all your clothes."

"What?" Tim was looking more alert than he had since they'd seen him in the rain.

"You were soaking wet and injured, Timothy," Ducky said with a smile. "We couldn't leave you in your own clothes."

"We had to strip you," Jimmy added.

Tim looked totally embarrassed, but then, his exhaustion reasserted itself. Ducky helped him lay back and he fell asleep again. Ducky gestured to Jimmy and they left the room.

"Mr. Palmer, I may take back everything I've said about your bedside manner. That was excellently done."

Jimmy stopped in his tracks. "What do you mean?"

"You quite cleverly got Timothy's mind off how close he came to death. Instead of dwelling on how serious things were, you moved on to the fact that there was some degree of silliness in a frightening event. Timothy was embarrassed but he did not fall asleep worrying. He fell asleep knowing that he was safe. Well done."

"I didn't...know that was what I was doing."

"Nevertheless, your instincts were right on, Mr. Palmer. You did a good job."

"Thanks, Dr. Mallard. Is he going to be okay? Really."

"I think so. Dr. Zeeman was definitely optimistic. It's not definite, of course. This is never something that you can say with complete certainity, but Timothy was coherent. He was conscious. He was doing much better. Mr. Palmer, regardless of what happens next, _you_ did not fail. _You_ did nothing wrong. Your efforts likely led to Timothy's survival. You also were key in freeing Jethro, Ziva and Anthony. We worked together and we succeeded. Do you understand?"

Jimmy wasn't sure he'd ever seen Ducky so emphatic about something that wasn't case-related.

"Mr. Palmer, I told you before that the mind is a terrible to waste. More even than Timothy's mind could have been wasted in his throes of delirium, you will be wasting _your_ mind if you choose to dwell on how things _could_ have gone wrong. If you choose to dwell on all that happened that you regret...it will eat away at you. Guilt is not an emotion you want to dwell on. That is why I have been so insistent that you get help with it. I know the danger that lies in the pain of guilt. I don't want that for you."

Jimmy thought about it. There was so much truth to what Ducky was saying, and yet, at the same time, he knew that it wasn't going to be so easy. He'd never been involved in something like this before. It was not a feature of his life. ...but Tim had survived, in spite of what Jimmy saw as his fumbling his way through a difficult situation. He didn't want to think about the fact that a man had died...that he had _killed_ a man, but he could also admit that there was little else he could have done. He looked at Ducky.

"Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes, lad?"

"If it's smaller than a bread box...and not alive...does it _look_ like something alive?"

Ducky looked at him in confusion for just a moment...and then he smiled.

"Yes, it does."

Jimmy thought he might just know what Ducky had chosen.

"Is it made out of plastic?"

"It could be."

"Is it made out of rubber?"

"Yes. Often."

Jimmy smiled. "A rubber ducky?"

Ducky chuckled. "Correct. Well done."

Jimmy nodded. "I think I understand, Dr. Mallard."

"Good."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Three weeks later..._

"Mr. Palmer, have a seat," Vance said.

Jimmy sat down nervously.

"As you know, there was a review conducted regarding your role in the rescue of the MCRT, specifically the death of one of our suspects."

Jimmy nodded without speaking. Vance smiled.

"The committee has completed their review and given me their findings based on the evidence collected and on the accounts of the members of the MCRT, as well as Dr. Mallard."

"Yes, Director," Jimmy said.

"The committee came to the conclusion that your actions were appropriate for a situation in which there were few options. There will be no further investigation, and you should consider the matter closed."

"Thank you...sir."

Vance stood up and shook his head. "No, Mr. Palmer. Allow _me_ to thank _you_ for your efforts. As one who is untrained and who had no real backup, you performed admirably."

"I wasn't alone, sir," Jimmy said, standing up as well. "Dr. Mallard was there and he did a lot."

"Yes, I have spoken to him already. Both of you are to be commended for your work."

Vance put out his hand. Jimmy hesitated and then shook it.

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, I believe Dr. Mallard is needing his assistant down in Autopsy."

Jimmy smiled. "I hope so, Director."

Vance returned the smile. "Then, get to it. You're a real asset to NCIS, Mr. Palmer. If you choose to stay after your schooling is done, we will be lucky to have you."

"Thank you, Director Vance!" Jimmy said and let himself out of the office. He hurried down to Autopsy, back to the place he belonged. He hadn't been there in what felt like ages with the review going on. It was too much to hope that he'd be able to work while he waited.

Ducky was there filling out paperwork as he often did at this time of the day. Jimmy walked over to his office.

"Dr. Mallard!"

Ducky looked up. "How did it go, Mr. Palmer?"

Jimmy nodded. "The review committee said that...that it was okay what I did."

"Very good. Timothy called me while you were in your meeting. He would like to talk to us if we have time after work."

"What for? Everyone is getting things ready for his welcome-back party next week."

"I don't know, but I suppose it's something he would like to say without an audience...and he is still mostly homebound under doctor's orders. Even the party next week will have to be toned down quite a bit...and Abigail knows it."

"Okay. I guess it's okay."

Ducky chuckled. "You needn't sound so uncertain, lad. I'm sure that Timothy wants one of two things from us: either to know what else he did while he was delirious or else to thank us again for what we did for him."

"But..."

"Mr. Palmer, it doesn't matter that he's already done so, nor that we've already given him some information about his actions."

Jimmy nodded. "I guess it doesn't. Do you think he's lonely?"

"Perhaps not lonely, but bored...and even as you yourself are still working through all that happened, he may be struggling to come to grips with it as well. You and I are among those who have seen Tim as low as he has ever been."

"And he needs to acknowledge it by forcing himself to talk to us?"

"Not _forcing_ , but _allowing_ himself to talk to us, perhaps even about what happened. Even without memory, the horror of one's experiences can remain."

Jimmy chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment.

"Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes?"

"How did you get so smart?"

"Did you think that I learned nothing from the stories I tell?"

Then, he winked.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim let them in eagerly enough. He was walking around on his own now, but he was still very obviously unwell. He looked pale and sickly and was taking very strong antibiotics. He was going in for tests every other day it seemed, but the smile he gave them was unfeigned. He gestured for them to sit and he sat down pretty quickly himself.

"I'm not supposed to be exerting myself very much yet," he said.

"It's wonderful to see you on your own two feet, Timothy, for no matter how short a time," Ducky said.

"My _aching_ feet," Tim replied. "I didn't realize what I'd done to my feet until I started walking around for the first time. I guess that's what running through the forest with no shoes will do to you."

"So...do you remember anything else?" Jimmy asked.

Tim shrugged. "Bits and pieces, but not much. Mostly emotions, not events. I do remember feeling guilty."

"About what?" Jimmy asked.

Tim smiled a little. "I got away...and left everyone else there. Now...I know that I couldn't have done anything for them. I wasn't even coherent when I managed to get out of the cabin. Apparently, they forgot to lock the door just once, and that was all I needed. But Ziva said that I told them I'd be back, that I'd come back but that I had to get out because it was so hot."

"That's pretty much all you said when you were delirious," Jimmy said. "You had to get back."

"At least I was consistent," Tim said with a bit of a smile. "Ducky told me about the review. How did it go?"

Jimmy could smile about it a little now. "The committee found that my actions were appropriate. I get to come back to work."

"That's great, Jimmy. Really. I wanted to be able to help somehow with that whole thing, but I just can't remember. I wish I could."

"It's okay, Tim. It doesn't matter...and you don't need to feel guilty for that."

Tim smiled sheepishly. "I know...but you guys did so much for me. I just want to...be able to give that back, but how do you do that when people saved your life?"

"Well...speaking as one of the people," Jimmy said, "you don't worry about it...because you don't have to."

"Yeah...I kind of figured," Tim said. "So...on a different note, has Tony said anything about this party? I'm getting nervous."

Ducky laughed. "It'll be nothing to worry about Timothy. Everyone knows that they'll have to take it easy on you for a while."

"If only I thought that would be enough," Tim said with a mock groan.

"I'll protect you," Jimmy said without thinking.

Tim looked at him seriously. "If I ever doubted it before, Jimmy, I won't doubt it again. Ever."

"You _are_ going to have to show off your scar, though," Jimmy said with a grin. "I think everyone wants to see it."

Tim smiled a little. "It'll be a great trophy later on, but right now, it's still pretty awful looking. Red and all the debridement is pretty obvious."

"Maybe I'll tell Tony to wait for that."

"Good idea."

They chatted for a little while longer and then Tim decided he'd been up for too long and needed to lie down. He was feeling a little lightheaded from the exertion of being upright. Ducky and Jimmy excused themselves with Tim's professions of gratitude following them out of his apartment. Jimmy was thoughtful as they headed back to the car.

"Dr. Mallard, I think I might know another reason Tim wanted us to come over."

"What's that, lad?"

Jimmy thought about how to phrase it right. "Because we've seen him so low...he doesn't have to worry about us being worried about how he looks and how he acts now. He didn't even hesitate to say that he was tired. I think he would have with the others."

"You may be right."

"And I think I know why you wanted me there."

Ducky's expression was the picture of innocence. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah...and I'm glad you wouldn't let me waste my mind."

"I'm glad you allowed me to interfere."

At the car, Jimmy paused for a moment. "Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes, Mr. Palmer?"

"I think that the best thing you ever did for me was hire me to work with you."

"You know what, Mr. Palmer? I think that may be about the best thing I ever did for myself...but next year, you can go to the conference by yourself."

Jimmy laughed and got into the car.

FINIS!


End file.
